To -- -- by Edgar Allan Poe
"To -- --" is a poem written by Edgar Allan Poe. It was later renamed as "To Marie Louise", the woman (Marie Louise Shew) who helped Poe's wife as she as dying. Nonetheless, this is the original name and the original poem.
This poem is about how Poe thought he would never fall in love. However, as his tongue becomes twisted and his heart beating, he obviously did.
"To Marie Louise", as this was later titled, consists of only one stanza. This poem does not have a noticeable rhyme scheme.
To -- -- Not long ago, the writer of these lines, In the mad pride of intellectuality, Maintained "the power of words"- denied that ever A thought arose within the human brain Beyond the utterance of the human tongue: And now, as if in mockery of that boast, Two words- two foreign soft dissyllables- Italian tones, made only to be murmured By angels dreaming in the moonlit "dew That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill," Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart, Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought, Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions Than even seraph harper, Israfel, (Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures,") Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken. The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand. With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee, I cannot write- I cannot speak or think- Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling, This standing motionless upon the golden Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams. Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista, And thrilling as I see, upon the right, Upon the left, and all the way along, Amid empurpled vapors, far away To where the prospect terminates- thee only. Published in 1829.
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